Holding Out for a Hero
by Rose from the Dark
Summary: Mello cannot fathom why he decided to take this 8:00 AM class, but, hey, at least it gives him ample time to play his favorite game: "How awkward can I make Matt feel today?" Matt/Mello, College AU, one-shot!


**A/N: My wonderful sister is graduating from high school today, and to celebrate I wrote her some Death Note AU! Because, what better way to get pumped for college than to read about the inappropriate escapades of freshmen Matt and Mello? Congrats, CrimsonEyes27!  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, only this strange plot.**

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**Holding Out for a Hero**

Mello _so_ did not want to be there.

It was his first day of classes for his first semester at college. Mello had always assumed that he'd blissfully dream the morning hours away before waking up for a nice jaunt to a 100 level sociology class or some other bullshit like that. That's what freshman year of college was supposed to be like, right? Get drunk every night and BS your way through classes?

Well, Mello had done the getting drunk part right. His head pounded as he blearily traversed the campus, eyes on the ground, squinting out the early morning sunlight. How the hell had he let his advisor convince him an 8:00 AM class would possibly be a good thing? And a 300 level computer-programming class, nonetheless! Mello knew he should have slacked more in high school—it was all those good grades and AP scores that got him into this mess. It's not like he ever studied then. High school was easy when your IQ test scores never sunk below 140.

The campus, flat, urban, and isolated within a city, was a ghost town at this hour. And when he reached his class at 8:02 (Mello prided himself on being late), only four other students were there and the professor was nowhere in sight. Mello sighed, lamenting the bed he'd left behind, and scoped out the room.

In the back sat two upper classmen, one with messy black hair who had curled up on his chair, and one with locks of soft auburn. The latter had his arms folded across his chest and was whispering angrily to the black-haired boy, though Mello couldn't hear what.

_Lover's quarrel_, thought Mello with a smirk as his eyes roved to the middle section. Only one girl sat there, texting furiously. Though every couple of words she would glance over her shoulder at the auburn-haired boy—who would ignore her completely—and then, with a high-pitched _hmph_, return to her phone. _Lover's triangle_, Mello amended.

A red-head boy sat in the front row, head studiously bent over a notebook as if he were studying already. _Loser_, Mello thought, but went to the front row to join him anyway. Say what you want about Mello's morning attitude, he never failed to dress for success. His favorite black leather vest and pants would be wasted in the back where no one could see them.

"Hey," said Mello as he sat next to the red-headed boy. It was then that he noticed that the boy was not bent over his notes but a Nintendo DS, studiously winning a race in Mario Kart. _Loser_, Mello thought once again, but only said, "I'm Mello."

"Matt," mumbled the boy, still staring intently at his game.

Mello frowned at the lack of enthusiasm. Mello was of the firm belief that anyone he deigned to speak to should be exuberantly pleased about it. Matt was neither exuberant nor pleased.

He tried again. "Eight o'clock class," he said with an appropriately dramatic sigh, "sucks, doesn't it?"

"Sure," said Matt. Mello watched as the other boy hit his CPU competitor with a blue shell and then deftly took the lead. It surprised him when the other boy spoke again. "Why are you wearing all that leather? It's August."

Mello scowled. That was not the sort of response he was looking for either. Especially because Matt was back to his game and didn't seem to care whether Mello answered at all.

Behind them more students had filed in and the room was filled with the white noise of dull murmurs. No one had sat in the front with them, and Mello knew nobody was listening in on their conversation. This gave Mello all the incentive he needed to get the other boy's attention—and the upper hand in this conversation, for Mello always demanded he have the upper hand—once and for all.

Leaning in close, Mello whispered, "Matt," in as husky a voice as he could manage, making sure that his breath would be felt on the redhead's ear.

Matt jerked and looked up at Mello, and for the first time Mello saw the boy's face: a smattering of light freckles and the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. Trees were sure to be jealous. Not that Mello was particularly into guys. But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy a pretty face when he saw one.

Mello grinned; this was going to be fun.

"What?" snapped Matt, who was already looking back down at his game. He hadn't lost any ground while looking up.

Mello leaned in close once again and breathed a hot breath into Matt's ear. "You see the thing about wearing all this leather is that you can't wear anything underneath it." Mello paused as he noticed Matt still, before finishing, "I'm not wearing any underwear right now, Matthew."

Matt turned a shocking shade of crimson and then promptly drove off the road and into the water. Without looking at Mello, he closed his Gameboy and slipped into his backpack. The red didn't fade from his face for the entire lecture. Mello was inordinately pleased with himself.

**-.-.-**

Over the weeks, "How awkward can I make Matt feel today?" became a regular game Mello played with the boy every day of programming class. It was great fun. It even prompted him to get there early and stay late, just so he'd have more time to whisper inappropriate things in the Matt's ear and watch him turn seven shades of scarlet.

Mello kept this up for an entire three weeks, that is, until they got the results of their first test of the semester. Mello felt the color drain from his face as he stared down at his paper, nearly dripping in red ink.

Matt looked over his shoulder and down at his score. "A thirty-seven?" he laughed, "You're so dumb."

Mello snatched the paper away from him, crumpling it, and shoving the offending score into his backpack. He did not fail to notice Matt's grade: a ninety-eight.

"Eh," said Mello, trying his hardest to look like he didn't care, although internally, he was calculating how well he needed to do on the next two tests to pass with a grade that won't lose his scholarship. "There's always next time."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "You're going to have to ace the rest of these tests to manage even a B."

Mello scowled and looked around. The professor was in the back of the room, looking very red as the know-it-all, black-haired boy Mello had learned was named L, argued calmly with him over the answer to the bonus question. "Why should I care what I get in a stupid computer science course?"

Matt tilted his head and looked at him with those large green eyes. "You don't have to, but you will."

Mello opened his mouth and then closed it. He had expected something mean, deserved it even. But what Matt said was oddly… nice. That was not was he was expecting.

He was also not expecting to say the next thing that came out his mouth.

"Will you tutor me?" blurted Mello. He immediately wanted to blush, although couldn't say why. Mello did _not_ get embarrassed.

Matt raised his eyebrows; they disappeared beneath his reddish bangs. "Really? You expect me to tutor you? After you made my past three weeks in this class hell?"

Somewhere deep inside Mello felt disappointed at this. Not because Matt refused to tutor him (he hadn't expected the other boy to say yes) but because he hadn't thought that Matt really hated him.

Mello quickly regained his composure. "No," he said with a laugh he hoped didn't sound too forced. "Don't you think I have better things to do than study for this fucking class?"

Matt was silent for a moment before saying, "Oh," very quietly. And then, "I would have said yes."

Mello's eyes widened in surprise. He didn't say one inappropriate thing all class to the other boy, and when Matt got up to leave very quickly at the end, Mello stopped him with a tug on his sleeve. "I'll meet you at your room. Seven-thirty. Thursday night. Okay?"

An unreadable expression came over Matt's face, but Mello could have sworn he saw a smile in there somewhere as the redhead nodded. Mello got up and left very quickly, unsure of this sudden knot that had formed in his stomach.

**-.-.-**

Mello looked hot tonight. There was no denying it, he thought, as he wandered through the fourth floor hallway of North Hall looking for Matt's room. It was a shame he'd be spending the night locked in a room learning where to place commas so that computers would do as their told. Mello had always been under the firm belief that computers were only good for porn and anonymously blogging about his superior fashion sense to the peasants—not that he would ever tell Matt that.

Well, Mello amended, he would never tell anyone about his blog, but he made a mental note to bring up the former to the sheltered gamer…

Grinning widely, Mello knocked firmly on the door.

"You know what my favorite thing about computers is Matt," Mello began as the door opened. He quickly stopped, noticing that this was not Matt answering the door, but a short kid with white hair that looked like he belonged in middle school. The kid cocked his head and looked up at Mello with dark eyes, but said nothing.

"Uh, I think I have the wrong room," said Mello uneasily. The kid's ghostly stare was unsettling to say the least.

Just as Mello began to back away, a voice called from inside the room. "Mello? I'm in here."

_Matt_, Mello thought. For some reason he hadn't expected there to be a roommate around. And, for some reason, this disappointed him, but Mello didn't let it show. Brushing past the pale kid, Mello burst into the room to find Matt sprawled on his bed, eyes locked in a staring contest with the television taking up the majority of the space on his desk.

"Just one second," Matt murmured, staring intently at the screen which Mello now saw contained an epic battle between Captain Falcon and Samus in Super Smash Brothers: Melee—a game Mello, too, had been addicted to… in middle school.

He opened his mouth to make some insulting comment about the game, when he noticed that Matt's pink tongue peeking out of his mouth in concentration. It was rather adorable. Mello dropped his eyes, feeling embarrassed at the thought (and Mello did _not_ get embarrassed), only to rest his gaze on Matt's fingers, moving deftly over the controls. Sliding smoothly from one button to the next, applying pressure when needed…

Suddenly feeling very warm, Mello removed his leather jacket and hung it over the bedpost. He ran his fingers through his hair and focused on the game, where Captain Falcon, with a most unmanly scream, flew off the stage.

"That's what you get for wearing spandex," commented Mello about the defeated CPU.

Matt turned to him, eyebrows raised, before giving him a deliberate once over.

"This is leather," defended Mello with mock horror at the slight, "And _I_ can pull it off."

"Whatever," said Matt with an eye-roll, but he was grinning. It seemed that whatever awkwardness that was between them in that last class has passed, and Mello found himself to be happy about this.

"Alright Wise One," said Mello, hopping up next to Matt on the bed, "Teach me your ways."

"You might want your textbook," said Matt, looking confused, "And your homework…"

Mello saw an opportunity. He grinned. And he took it.

"Oh, you thought I really meant programming," said Mello dropping his voice to a husky whisper, "I had other things in mind."

"Mello…?" began Matt, unsure, but he never managed to finish the thought. Mello placed a hand seductively on the other boy's inner thigh, and Matt yelped as if he'd just found a snake in his bed.

Mello cracked up laughing as Matt curled himself into a ball, knees drawn up to his chest. The color of his face now resembled his hair.

After a good ten minutes, Mello regained his composure. Matt still hadn't emerged from his ball in the corner.

"Y-you didn't really mean that, right?" Matt's voice cracked and the red on his cheeks deepened.

"No, you dumbass," said Mello, rolling his eyes, "I _am_ actually here for class."

"Oh, good," was all Matt said. Mello could have almost sworn he'd sounded disappointed, and felt the sudden urge to look away. His gaze found Matt's roommate's, and Mello couldn't shake the feeling that the kid thought they were complete idiots. This made Mello a little proud, but not as proud as he was of the blush still reigning on Matt's pale face.

**-.-.-**

After three weeks of Thursday night tutoring, Mello felt that he could perhaps manage a fifty on a test, if he tried really hard, that is. What he couldn't manage was Matt's creepy roommate, Near, who was either watching them directly, or out of the corner of his eye as he played with the toys littering the floor.

"What's the albino's deal?" asked Mello when Near left to use the dormitory bathroom down the hall.

Matt shrugged his shoulder. "He's super smart, pretty quiet."

"And plays with dolls," added Mello, gesturing to the Iron Man action figure on the floor. "I assume he doesn't get out much?"

"_Never_," said Matt with a sudden enthusiasm. "I _never_ get the room to myself. He only leaves for classes! This is the first time he's used the bathroom in weeks…"

Amused by the sudden chord he struck in Matt, Mello pressed on. "And how do you know that?" he asked sweetly, "Sounds like there is somebody else in this room that doesn't get out much either."

Matt opened his mouth and then closed it again. "I just never…" He didn't finish the thought.

"Knew how?" provided Mello.

Matt nodded miserably.

"Matthew, my dear," said Mello with flourish, "You have now got Friday night plans."

Matt looked up, alarmed. "With _you_?"

Mello pouted. "Please, I can't take the enthusiasm," he deadpanned. Somewhere deep inside he felt a little disappointed that Matt would take so badly to the idea of going out with him, but he didn't let it show. "No, I meant that tomorrow night we are going to a party."

"Oh, yeah. Of course," Matt mumbled. Mello noticed a slight pink already creeping up the other boy's cheeks.

Mello rolled his eyes. "I will be here at eight. Be sure to look your best, and I'll see what I can do from there." And with that, Mello dropped his books in his bag and walked confidently out of the room, though in the pit of his stomach butterflies were squirming at the idea of going out with Matt.

And not in a completely unpleasant way.

**-.-.-**

"_Maaattt_," Mello sang, knocking on the door Friday night, "_Come out, come out, wherever you are_."

When Matt opened the door, Mello was expecting to see him dressed in his usual bland clothing, just waiting for Mello to fix him up. He was _not_, however, expecting Matt to be wearing nothing but a towel. He did _not_ expect to find that Matt had toned abs beneath his loose clothing and pale skin. He did _not _expect to feel this sort of aroused heat coiling in his abdomen until he had downed multiple drinks and was surrounded by a nest of scantily clad women.

For the first time in his partying life, Mello was unprepared. But he hid it well. "Matt, this isn't a toga party."

Matt blushed. The knuckles clutching the towel to his waist were turning white. "Y-you're early," he stammered, casting a quick glance at his roommate and looking relieved to find him absorbed in his solo game of chess, rather than himself and Mello.

"I am never late, nor am I early," Mello said pompously, "I arrive precisely when I mean to."

Matt stared for a moment, mouth agape. "Did you… Did you just quote Tolkien?"

Mello offered a sly grin and a shrug. Matt broke out into a huge smile which made Mello inordinately pleased, though he could not say why.

"Anyway," Mello announced, "We have important matters to attend to. Where is your wardrobe?" Matt pointed to the closet, which Mello opened with a flourish, only to be disappointed with its lack of substance. "This… is it?"

Matt shrugged. "I've never really needed much else."

"Matt, Matt, Matt," said Mello shaking his head. The pickings were quite slim. Mello stepped back and took in the whole sparse picture. On the floor of the wardrobe was a box that he could see a bit of green fabric peeking out of. _Green would go great with his eyes_, Mello thought, reaching for the box, but, quick as a whip, Matt was in the way.

"N-no," stammered Matt, picking up the box and stuffing it under his bed. "Not in there. That's… personal."

Mello frowned. He could have sworn he had seen something that looked notoriously like a green dress in that box, but he didn't press the matter. He had prepared for Matt's lack of clothing resources. Out of the closet he pulled a black and white striped shirt, as well as a brown, fur-trimmed vest.

"Um, Mello," ventured Matt, "I think this outfit is missing something important… like pants."

Mello grinned, reached into his bag, and pulled out an extra pair of his own leather pants. "No, it's not," he said matter-of-factly.

"Uh-uh, no way, never…" Matt said quietly, backing away. "I am not going into public wearing _leather_."

"And what's wrong with leather?" asked Mello, gesturing to all of himself.

"N-nothing," said Matt, turning red, "It looks great—fine, fine on you. B-but I can't pull that off."

"Nonsense," said Mello with a wave of his hand. "Anyone can pull off leather. It's all about attitude."

"I can't."

"You can and you will," said Mello, "Now put your leather pants on or I swear I will delete every one of your high scores on every one of your games."

"You wouldn't! Couldn't…" Matt looked worried.

"Want to try me?"

Matt pouted, but snatched the pants out of Mello's hands. Mello grinned triumphantly before turning around, figuring the least he could afford Matt was a little privacy now, because God knows he'll have none in that tight leather.

The thought made Mello a little warm, but before he could decide what that meant, Matt said: "Okay, I'm dressed."

Mello turned to admire his work and it was all he could do not to let his mouth fall open. Matt wore the vest open and underneath the slightly-too-small shirt clung tightly to the ripples of his stomach muscles. And he didn't even want to think about those pants… those pants that hugged Matt's body and left nothing to the imagination…

Mello tore his eyes from this offense to his sexuality and rummaged in his bag before emerging with a pair of bright orange goggles. "Here," he said shoving them into Matt's hands. "Wear these on your head. They'll look great with your eyes…"

For a moment, Mello met Matt's intrusively green gaze, and suddenly felt himself blushing. The stare lasted a second too long and when Mello tore his gaze away he felt uncomfortably warm.

"Come on Mattie, it's time to get you laid," Mello said, not meeting the other boy's gaze. "It's time to get me laid too," he added in a mumble, but at that moment, he could honestly not say by whom.

**-.-.-**

The party was loud and smelled a noxious mix of beer and urine common to fraternity houses. He decided to take Matt here because it was common knowledge that this was where the girls were sluttiest and Mello, after numerous drinks, had decided that the only way to solve his problems were to get Matt laid. If he could prove to himself that Matt was not interested in his own gender, he could prove to himself that he had no interest in Matt.

Which he didn't. Definitely not at all. It had been the dorm room lights that had made Matt look so incredibly hot in those pants and his eyes so incredibly green. Mello downed the rest of his… something-eth beer—he couldn't quite remember—and then scouted the room for a suitable match for Matt.

It was on the center of the dance floor that he spotted her—the blonde girl from his programming class, Misa. She danced ostentatiously, an obvious show for the obviously uninterested auburn-haired guy from their class, Light. She performed a grand twirl and nearly toppled over on her stilettos. Yup, Mello decided, she was definitely drunk enough; and it was just an added bonus that she was trying to make another guy jealous.

"Perfect," said Mello.

"What is?" asked Matt, sipping sensibly at his first beer of the night.

"That girl," said Mello, pointing, "For you. To, you know." Mello made a rude but informative gesture.

Matt went pink to the ears. "I don't know, Mello, I'm not sure if I'm ready for—"

"Nonsense!" said Mello rather more loudly than he meant to, and then took Matt by the elbow and dragged him forward onto the dance floor. Misa stopped dancing when she noticed them coming toward her, and instead grinned and warped a strand of blonde hair coyly around her finger.

"Hey Missssa," said Mello, trying to sound suave, but the _s_ slurred on his tongue.

"Matt!" she screeched, "Mello! Ohmigod Misa is sooo glad you're here. You're like my best friendssss. I missed you soooo much!"

They never spoke outside of that class (likely because of her irritating tendency to speak in the third person about herself) and their conversations within were rare and mostly consisted of Mello insulting her without her realizing it. But if she wanted to think they were BFFs, Mello wasn't going to question it.

When Matt said nothing, Mello elbowed him hard in the ribs. "Ow! I mean, hello Misa."

Mello frowned, not liking the sullen tone Matt had taken on. "Mattie, that's no way to treat a girl. Why don't you ask her to dance?"

Misa perked up at this like a drunken puppy. "Yesss, dancing. Misa loves to dance." She spun in a tipsy circle, as if to prove it.

"I-I don't really dance," said Matt. He was turning red and backing slowly away. Mello put a firm hand on his back and pushed him forward. Unfortunately, drunk as he was, Mello couldn't really judge the force and pushed too hard. Matt tripped forward, spilling his drink all over Misa's dress.

It took Misa a few moments to comprehend, and when she did, she began to giggle uncontrollably. "Oh lookie, Misa's all wet," she said in a voice she obviously thought was sexy. "I guess I'll just have to take all this off."

Mello watched as she looked up at Matt with big, puppy-dog eyes. Mello was proud of his inadvertent work. "I-I don't know," stammered Matt, backing away again.

"Of course she does," provided Mello in a way that he thought sounded helpful. "And you need Matt's help, don't you Misa?"

She threw a quick glance over her shoulder to where Light wasn't paying any attention at all. Light was engrossed in a deep conversation with L, although it was obvious that his mind, like his eyes, were on other things. That other thing being L's crotch.

"Oh yes I do," purred Misa. She batted her long eyelashes at him.

"I can't," said Matt. His face was very red now.

"Yes," said Mello with a little force behind his words, "You can."

Matt was shaking his head, looking utterly terrified of the situation. "No, I don't want to. Please, Mello, just drop it."

This seemed like a dumb request to Mello at the time, so he ignored it. "Yes, you do want to. Now go help this pretty lady out of her dress and fuck her 'til she screams."

Misa nodded in adamant agreement.

"N-no," said Matt, and then, "I have to go." And with that he turned and ran off, disappearing into the crowd. Mello just stared after him, feeling an odd mixture of empty and so full of alcohol that he was drowning in it.

Misa turned to Mello with a resigned look on her face. "You wanna fuck, then?"

Mello looked at her in her wet and slinky dress, and, for the first time in his life, said no, and walked away.

**-.-.-**

Despite (or perhaps because of) the large intake of alcohol, Mello did not sleep well that night. His dreams were fractured like the image of Matt's emerald green eyes before he walked away at that party. Mello hadn't realized at the time that Matt had looked so hurt.

It was these dreams that convinced Mello that he had to do something to make it up to Matt—for pushing him when he didn't want to be pushed. He would go over to Matt's room and beg forgiveness.

Once he'd cured this massive hangover, that is.

**-.-.-**

Mello had to take a deep, steadying breath before he knocked on Matt's door later that night. Near answered in his usually silent way, and then went back to his puzzle—thousands of tiny pieces spread out all over his desk. Matt was using his desk as well, the TV on his desk, that is. He was playing a game that Mello vaguely recognized as _The Legend of Zelda_, though he had never played it.

"Hey Matt," said Mello quietly.

No response.

"Look, about last night…"

Still nothing. Not even a glance.

Mello sighed and then said quickly. "I'm really, really sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you. And if there is any way I can make this up to you, let me know. I'll do anything, I swear."

"Anything?" asked Matt.

Mello couldn't help but smile at the fact that Matt was talking to him. He was afraid it might have taken weeks to earn his forgiveness and he suddenly realized how completely awful that would have been.

Mello walked over to the bed. "Anything. I promise."

Matt paused his game and looked up at Mello from where he was reclined on the bed. His green eyes shimmered slightly as if he'd been crying recently. The thought made Mello, himself, want to cry too.

"Well…" began Matt, sitting up. "No, it's stupid."

Mello hopped up on the bed next to the other boy. "I bet it's not."

It was Matt's turn to take in a big breath before saying in a rush. "I'm going to a gaming convention next weekend and I really want to cosplay, but I don't want to do it alone, so would you… would you cosplay with me?"

Mello was startled by the sheer number of words Matt managed to express in such a short space—he'd never heard him talk this much. And Mello heard himself agreeing although he had no idea what he was agreeing to.

"Um Matt, what is cosplaying?"

Matt laughed at this. Clear and beautifully, and the sound made Mello happy though he suddenly had the feeling that he wouldn't like the answer to that question.

"It's where you dress up as characters from a TV show or a game."

"Okay… and who am I dressing up as?"

"Zelda," said Matt with a grin.

Mello looked at the game on the TV. "Sweet. The main character, right? I'm gonna look great in those tights."

The smirk on Matt's face deflated Mello's brief happiness.

"That's Link," said Matt, "I'm going as him."

Mello quickly put two and two together. "That means Zelda… No…"

"Yes," said Matt cheerily, "Don't worry the dress will go great with your eyes."

**-.-.-**

It took Mello a solid hour to come to terms with the fact that he would be wearing a dress in public… again. He thought he could start a trend of men wearing dresses while in high school, so he borrowed one of his mother's slinky black numbers. He was asked out by five members of the football team before one of them realized that he was not in fact a girl. These numbers would have impressed Mello if they had not gotten him beaten up for the rest of the year.

"So this cosplaying thing," began Mello slowly, "Men wearing dresses is normal, right?"

A mock quizzical expression came over Matt's face for a moment before he answered brightly: "No, not really."

"Great," muttered Mello, "It'll be sophomore year all over again."

"What was that?"

"Nothing," supplied Mello quickly, before changing the subject. "Why can't I be him? He looks badass." On screen, a ninja in blue and white spandex appeared from nowhere to teach the protagonist a song.

"_She_ looks badass, you mean" said Matt.

Mello furrowed his eyebrows. "Hate to break it to you Mattykins, but that's definitely a dude. Have you seen his crotch?"

"That's Zelda," deadpanned Matt.

"Hm," said Mello a grin flitting across his features, "Well, if that guy is Zelda, then you got one thing right in choosing me to play him…" Mello gestured at his own nether regions and then smirked at Matt. Matt looked as if he very much regretted mentioning this tidbit of the game at all. It was ridiculous how much fun it was to make dirty jokes when they were both sitting on Matt's bed.

**-.-.-**

It was late by the time Mello left. Near had fallen asleep at his desk, head resting on his puzzle. At some point Matt and Mello had shifted so that both were leaning against the wall at the head of the bed. Mello was very aware of every point of contact between the two. He wondered if Matt was too.

As the end credits of the game rolled by, Matt sat up and stretched. Mello followed suit. In the wake of the game, the silence seemed especially unbearable. Mello had the strong urge to break it, but didn't know what to say.

Matt, surprisingly, did. "I'm glad you came over tonight. I had fun."

"I did too," said Mello.

Silence again.

"I'm sorry I ruined the party for you," said Matt suddenly, "It's just that I'm not good at…"

"Talking to girls?" Mello supplied.

"No," said Matt, "Telling someone that I like them."

He looked at Mello with his very green eyes as he said that.

"Matt…" began Mello, but at that moment, Near woke up.

"It's three in the morning," said the albino kid as if he were just noting the time, but the moment was lost, anyway.

"I guess I'd better go," said Mello, getting up.

"Wait," said Matt, jumping up as well, and Mello had the fleeting hope that Matt was going to kiss him. But he didn't. He grabbed a bag from that box he had stashed under his bed the night of the party. The green dress suddenly made sense. "Your costume, since we don't have class this week, and I have a test Thursday night…"

"Right," said Mello, a little disappointed.

"I will be at your room at one o'clock next Friday. Be sure to look your best, and I'll see what I can do from there." Matt grinned.

Mello couldn't help but smile back. "Got it," said Mello, and he left feeling oddly happy with the way that evening turned out.

**-.-.-**

Mello looked ridiculous in this dress—and not in the hot kind of way either. He considered not even opening the door when the knock came promptly at one in the afternoon. But then, the thought of not seeing Matt created a sinkhole in his stomach that no amount of calories would ever fill.

"I think I may have to murder you for this at some point for this," said Mello as he opened to door, "So you may want to sleep with one eye open for the rest of your life…" He trailed off.

Where Mello looked ridiculous, Matt looked ridiculously hot. The white tights hugged his legs and the tunic was short enough that little must be left to the imagination. Mello was suddenly glad for the voluminous amount of fabric covering his lower half…

"You look…b-beautiful," Matt stammered out before turning an endearing shade of scarlet.

Under normal circumstances, Mello was not sure he'd take beautiful as a compliment. But these were not normal circumstances, and Mello was quite pleased to hear that from Matt.

"You don't look too bad yourself, Mr. Hero."

"Thanks," said Matt quietly, and then, "Shall we go?"

Mello was a little bit disappointed that Matt had not decided to tear off his clothes then and there, and Mello was a little disappointed that he, himself had not suggested it, at least jokingly in the _you're the hero, I'm the damsel in distress _kind of way. With Matt, Mello found, he didn't want their relationship to be all dirty jokes and sex.

_But we're not in a relationship yet_, Mello had to remind himself. The thought soured his mood.

The car ride to the center seemed to stretch on for ages, although the drive was less than an hour. This was perhaps because neither party seemed to want to mention the events of the last time they were together. The things that were said and almost said. The kiss that did not happen.

They were so incredibly cordial to one another, that Mello was afraid he'd missed his chance. Upon entering the building, every cloakroom and closet they passed seemed to call his name with a seductive twinge he didn't think he could hold out against much longer. Though he knew he had to; for Matt.

"So, Mr. Hero," said Mello once they were official within the convention bounds. Everywhere there were people dressed in costume. There were more than a few Links, though none nearly as hot as Matt. "What now?"

"Er," said Matt nervously. He picked at his costume as though he were too warm. "I normally just go destroy at video games but…"

He trailed off as his eyes roamed over Mello.

"But what?" Mello asked, thoroughly enjoying the way Matt was looking at him.

"But… I think we should go this way." Matt grabbed Mello's hand and practically dragged him to a door on the opposite side of the room. When they reached the door, Matt glanced around quickly, opened it, and then stepped in, dragging Mello bodily behind after.

When the door shut, the room became incredibly dark and it took the few moments for his eyes to adjust for Mello to realize that this was not a room at all, but a closet. A soft snick echoed in the tiny space as Matt locked the door from the inside. Mello's insides thrummed more like a hoard of wasps than the soft flutter of butterfly wings.

"Why, Mattie, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you'd taken me here to f—"

Mello was cut off as a pair of lips crushed against his own. His inside's melted as if the wasps turned to Jell-O. Surely, any moment he would be nothing more than a puddle beneath his shoes. But then Matt's hands were on his back and in his hair and Mello heard himself moaning softly.

The moan turned into a groan when Matt pulled slightly away. "What I was trying to say last night is that I like you. A lot, okay? That's why I didn't want Misa. I don't want anyone else. I want you—"

Mello put a finger to Matt's lips to silence him. The desire in Matt's emerald eyes sent shivers down Mello's spine. He brushed his finger carefully along Matt's perfect cheekbone before tangling his hand in the other boy's hair, and pulling his face forward in a kiss so desperate Mello surprised even himself.

It was some time before they surfaced for air.

Their faces were only inches away from one another.

"I love you," Matt whispered, his breath tickling Mello's face.

"I know," returned Mello and Matt's face lit up at the reference. Mello shook his head, but couldn't shake the grin. "You are such a geek, but I love you, Matt."

Matt pulled him into a tight hug. It was sappy, but Mello couldn't help but to enjoy it, just not for too long.

"Now let's say, Mr. Hero," Mello breathed into Matt's ear, "That I really am a princess and you really did just rescue me from the clutches of evil. What will you do now?"

Mello pulled back just a little to see the grin on Matt's face. It wasn't until Mello's dress hit the floor that he vaguely wondered how soundproof the door was. He hoped it wasn't at all soundproof because Mello, after all, is not one to _not_ make a scene.

Not if he can help it, anyway.


End file.
